The Whispering Voices
by TheDanaDobreAKAToshiroLover
Summary: At the fragile age of 4, Nate River's mother is murdered before his very eyes. He is given the option to go to an orphanage named Wammy's House. What other troubles await him? And who is this L person? T because I'm paranoid. NOT YAOI. Near centric
1. Chapter 1

**The Whispering Voices**

** Chapter 1**

* * *

**...  
**

_"Today is the first day of the rest of your life."_

_~Anonymous_

**...**_  
_

It had started on that one night, oh so long ago, when she had died. Prodigy albino child Nate River, age four, had been conversing with his mother when it happened. Elsa River was indeed a force to be reckoned with. She stood at a massive (to his point of view) five foot six with long blonde hair just barely tamed by a messy braid. Her eyes would constantly change colors depending on the lighting and whatever mood she was in. It would be a vibrant sky blue whenever she was happy or excited. The bright eyes would darken to a teal whenever she was upset or depressed. Those eyes in turn would become a deep, piercing gray whenever she was angry.

His mother was a scientist, extraordinary by any standards set upon her. She had a Ph. D. in almost every highly esteemed subject and was most famous by her work in the psychology world. She had, of course, settled down after she had him, knowing that a child's early years were the most important in their development. Many people worried about her, however, after her husband had died after being stabbed and bleeding to death in a mugging incident. Nate, at the fragile age of two, had already been aware of his surroundings for quite some time and noticed the change in his precious mother, making him very worried. She had grieved for but a short time, committing her free time instead to pampering her son and providing the best education for him. So what, one might ask, was the problem?

Yes, Nate River flourished under her watchful eye and loving care. By his third birthday he could recite the periodic table without blinking an eye and would constantly out-perform college students studying for their own Ph. D.s. He could've easily been the smartest child on the planet. This, of course, was never the problem. Children with high IQs were highly praised and loved by their parents and other adults, other than the envious ones. He was quite happy with his current position and saw nothing wrong with himself though he, of all people, should've easily seen the signs. Elsa River noticed early in her time as his mother what was different in him. No, it was not his albinism. She among many others had already known of it ever since he had been born. She had been afraid to admit it, for it had been her fault entirely how he'd turned out the way he had.

He had no friends other than herself. He only spoke to others if they were adults or well-known friends of hers. He barely even acknowledged the existence of any other children that happened upon his presence. He rarely even showed a remote interest in anything that was even a little bit childish. No toys or tricks for him. No joking or laughing or messing around or having fun, all of which were things essential to a child's development. She had failed as a parent. Because of her high amount of knowledge about the young beings known as children and how they grew, she had attempted to mold the perfect genius child. A prodigy. She now realized that she had used him, her own _son_, as an experiment to see if she could do it. Sure, she had succeeded, but at the same time she had failed miserably. By stuffing him up with massive amounts of knowledge, she had neglected giving him any lessons in social interaction. She had kept him all to herself and she was deeply ashamed. In the end, she had approached her son in an attempt to right wrongs, not knowing about the assassin that sat poised in a tree nearby, aiming a shot through the window and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

**...**

"Nate, sweetheart?" she asked, knocking on his door. He opened the door wide to allow her inside, smiling at her and revealing his pearly white teeth. She walked inside, mentally wincing at the room.

All white. No color. No toys. No nothing. Yet another sign of her failure.

"Yes Mother?" he asked as she settled down on his plain _white_ bed which had been neatly made. She winced again. Such formality between mother and child…

"Mother?" he called again, frowning slightly when she didn't respond and merely stared at him. Her eyes were a cloudy gray, though she didn't appear to be angry at him. She bit her lip as she watched him, "Mother, are you feeling well?"

She gave him a weak smile.

"I'm sorry sweetie. I was just thinking, how do you view yourself?" she asked him, wringing her hands nervously. Nate River noticed this as a sign of stress and discomfort.

"I view myself as a happy and healthy child, Mother. You've given me the best education possible and I am very pleased with my current position." He answered without hesitating. She frowned slightly.

"That's not exactly what I meant, Nate." She said quietly, making her son blink in incomprehension.

"How else am I supposed to view myself?" he asked, curious. She chuckled though the expression of happiness didn't reach her eyes.

"Try to imagine yourself through a child's point of view, Nate." She instructed, "One that does not have the same caliber of intelligence you do. Who would they see you as?" Nate was surprised at the question, but did as she asked.

"I suppose I would be a somewhat intimidating force," he said after a few seconds of thought, "I would be a threat, due to my appearance and intelligence, but they would not be a problem for me."

"What do you mean by problem, Nate?" she asked, trying to show him the light.

"They would attempt to attack or undermine me. Show that they're the 'boss'." He smiled somewhat slyly, "I would not have a problem dealing with them. Children are unintelligent and loud. They can be easily defeated."

"Nate, why exactly would you say that when you yourself are a child?" she asked.

"Because I am better than them." He replied simply, twirling a piece of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nate, analyze your answers and then determine what kind of person would say those things." She said, frowning. He frowned as he thought, his fingers pausing.

"Sweetheart, it would make me happy if you attempted to communicate with other children your age or do things they enjoy to do." She said after a few minutes of silence, "It would do you good at well."

"No." he replied, eyes aimed down at the floor and his fingers twirling the lock of hair again, "I refuse to speak with children. I do not have time for such foolish pastimes. I refuse."

Elsa's heart broke and she gazed mournfully at the penetrating deep gray eyes her only son had.

"I'm sorry, then. I believe I have failed as a parent." She said slowly, closing her eyes, "When a child refuses to do things a child should be doing and adults wish they were doing once again…"

She opened her now teary eyes which immediately grew wide, her breath suddenly forced and quick.

"Nate!" she cried, lunging off the bed and towards her son whom had frozen at the unexpected action. A loud _**BANG**_ echoed throughout the property as the bullet shattered through the window and into the frantic mother who had pushed her son out of its path. Nate River flew back, the back of his head hitting the plain wall. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to figure out what had happened. His mother still stood in the middle of the room, the bullet lodged in her heart. She was gazing directly at him, blood beginning to trickle from her mouth.

"N..N…Na-ate." She managed to croak out before she fell forwards, landing with a muted _thud_ on the carpeted floor. He rushed to her side after a few moments of shock and gently rolled her over. He frantically searched for a pulse but found none even after desperately checking each location several times.

"M-mother…" he choked, gazing into her unseeing gray eyes. Salty tears began to blur his vision for the very first time. Nate River's mother was dead, and Nate River was all alone.

**...**

_Except for one problem._

_He wasn't alone._

_Far from it, actually._

_**...**_

Nate River was a genius, a prodigy, the child any parent would want. With his mother, he had thrived and was happy. Without the guidance, love, and protection from his mother, Nate River would've been ripped apart by the harshness of the real world, all wanting possession of the child. Near, however, was different. After the murder of Nate River's mother, Near had appeared. Whatever kindness that had existed in him vanished as he sat next to her body.

He was rushed away after the neighbors had called. Before he'd realized it, he was sitting in the back of an ambulance where a nurse was asking him useless questions that made him want to scream.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asked, smiling gently down at him.

"I am perfectly alright." He asked, his calm voice hiding the turmoil within, "As you saw earlier, I believe it was my mother that needed the assistance, not I." The nurse bit her lip as her eyes filled up with tears.

"You don't have to be brave for me, sweetheart. It's alright." She said, smiling weakly at him. The smile unnerved him, almost making him visibly jerk away from the young woman. What was it? What could possibly make him feel this what? The thought struck him unaware.

The young woman had long blond hair placed in messy braid. Her eyes were the same sky blue. Her smile was exactly like the last one _she_ had given him before she'd-

"Get out." He deadpanned, giving her his iciest glare. She blinked.

"W-what?" she stammered, unused to the hostility the mere four-year-old was giving off.

"You must be hard at hearing then. I shall graciously repeat what I have clearly asked you to do. Get. Out." He repeated, his voice cold.

"B-but I've got to check-" she clumsily stumbled over her words, making her sound as foolish as she currently appeared.

"Surely you aren't the only nurse in the area. There was a murder inside my own house; wouldn't it be easy to assume that they had trained medical professionals after hearing a gunshot?" he interrupted dryly. He looked away, refusing to look at her any longer, "Send a male." She gasped at his harshness but quickly left the vehicle, a male paramedic entering a few moments later. He looked as if he should've been retired, with short gray hair expertly combed back to keep the strands out of his face.

"Alright son, what seems to be the problem?" the old man asked, his voice soothingly soft to the small boy's nerves.

"My mother is dead and you're asking me what seems to be the problem?" Near (no longer Nate) asked sarcastically, though his tone was cold.

"Other than that," the man waved his hand dismissively, "We know your mother's dead, we know who your mother was, and we know who you are. I believe that you're smarter than I will ever be and I'd bet big bucks that you're the smartest kid 200 miles over. We _could_ take you to any remaining family members you have. We _could_ take you to the police station for questioning. We _could_ take you to social services. We _could_ just drop you off at the nearest orphanage. Somehow, I don't think you find any of these options appealing." Near gave a sharp, nearly imperceptible nod, surprising himself somewhat. He'd only been in the man's presence for less than three minutes and already he'd found himself holding his sharp tongue.

"So, I'll give you an option I think you'd like. I can call up an old friend of mine, very wealthy and well-known. He would happily take you in. He has his own line of orphanages, but usually stays at a special one meant for kids with big IQs. They compete there and get even smarter than anyone could ever imagine." The man said, smiling slightly, "I think you'd like to prove to others that you're smarter even though you're younger and smaller than them all. Society won't be able to touch and change you there. You get to prove you're the best of the best if you go there. What'dya say, son?"

Near stared deeply into the old man's eyes, trying to see the motive behind his offer.

Nothing.

The offer was tempting. A chance to compete?

…

Interesting.

Very interesting.

"Mr…" Near trailed off, digging for a name.

"Alexander. The name's Derek Alexander." Derek said, smiling down at the small boy.

"Well then, Mr. Alexander. I accept your offer."

* * *

**(A/N):** _Oh wow. I started this writing like, five months ago, and I finish it now. Derp. Contrary to popular belief, I'm constantly either writing or reading. You've no idea how many stories I've started just to scrap it all. It actually rather irritating, because I actually like the stories I start, but I can't seem to keep them going. The ones I post are the ones I've finished and liked the most._

_Woo! Any reviews? Favorites? Any of that jazz? This'll just be a side project, like basically everything else, so don't expect me to update this too often until I finish my main story Victims of_ _Fate_.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Whispering Voices**

** Chapter 2**

* * *

_Interesting._

_Very interesting._

"_Mr…" Near trailed off, digging for a name._

"_Alexander. The name's Derek Alexander." Derek said, smiling down at the small boy._

"_Well then, Mr. Alexander. I accept your offer." _

…

_Nothing is more useful than silence._

_~Menander of Athens_

…

Near was quietly shuttled away from his former home, all of the paramedics successfully bribed to report young Nate River's absence from the crime scene at arrival. The car he was in was obviously one of high standard, the heated leather seats warming his bottom. It also had a barrier for privacy between the driver and the backseat. The car, no doubt, belonged to whomever Mr. Alexander had been speaking about, though Near had an idea.

Quillish Wammy. According to the press, the old man is a very wealthy with shares in just about everything. He'd started out as an inventor, which quickly was made into the fortune he owned today. It was rumored that he owned a considerable chunk of the entire world's business. He also, apparently, had a heart of gold. Mr. Wammy started an orphanage long ago that rapidly spread worldwide, becoming a large chain. Near, of course, knew everything from his date of birth (May 1st, 1933) to his blood type (B), but had never heard of the special orphanage he possessed. Though it was probably better the public did not know of the special orphanage.

A soft knock on the window next to him drove Near from his thoughts. The door opened, revealing (of course) Quillish Wammy.

"Excuse me, my dear boy, but could you perhaps move to the far seat? I am not as young as I used to be." Mr. Wammy smiled down at the boy. Near shivered imperceptibly at the cold wind as it blew in through the open door and quickly moved away, allowing the old man to sit down and shut the door. The older man raised his eyebrow at Near as the car began to move forward.

"Is there an issue, Mr. Wammy?" Near asked, his voice as emotionless as his face. The older man smiled warmly at him again.

"I'm glad we can skip the introductions, Nate." Wammy sounded pleased, "That means I can go straight to business." Near sat motionless, silently watching and waiting for him to continue.

"Very well then, I shall start explaining how the regulations at Wammy's House work." Mr. Wammy said, clearing his throat, "Wammy's House is, at its most basic level, an orphanage for the gifted, whether it is creatively or academically. While at the Wammy House, there will be other gifted children such as yourself whom you will compete with for the number one spot on exams. You will be tested thoroughly and will be taught an expansive set of skills that will be required once you are old enough to live out on your own. You will be settled with a roommate unless you reach the number one position, upon doing so you will be given the option to move into a room of your own. Wammy's House is much rather like a school than an ordinary orphanage, and so you will be given a schedule along with a set of rules that must be followed. They are not optional. Understood?" Near silently nodded his head, twisting a piece of his hair as he ingested the information.

"Because I respect the privacy of all the children at Wammy's, I tell them they must create their own alias as to not be discovered. Though you may speak your true identity to any you wish, it might not prove be a great idea." Mr. Wammy warned, "Nate River, what would you wish to be called?"

Near watched the old man look at him expectantly and thought carefully. If he was to create an alias, he had to choose carefully. Making it too close to his real name would make it easily solvable, but he wanted to give the other children a challenge. If one was incredibly clever, then they could possibly crack it.

"_Near."_ A voice whispered in the back of his head, _"Near. Near. Near."_

"My name shall be Near." Near said as the car slowly pulled to a stop.

"Very well, Near." Wammy nodded and rummaged through a bag he'd brought in, taking out a heavy wool coat in his size and handing it to Near, "I thought you might be cold on the walk inside, so you may want to put it on." Near glanced outside through the tinted windows and saw heavy snow falling, obscuring his view of the house. Looking disdainfully at the coat, he shrugged it on. The door opened from the outside and Mr. Wammy stepped out, Near shuffling right behind him into several inches of freshly fallen snow.

As Mr. Wammy walked several steps in front, Near stood in wonder of the soft, fluffy material coming from the sky. Though he knew it was snow, he'd never been outside the house to actually experience it. His mother had been terrified that he'd get sick, having a weak immune system, and forbid his playing outside. Nate had not wanted to go out anyway. There were always too many runny-nosed children playing outside in the snow, laughing and starting snowball wars and making snowmen and snow forts and everything a child would do in snow. This was true now.

Near took several quick steps in the snow to catch up to Mr. Wammy and walked beside him, grabbing his hand. Near did not want to have the other children throw _snowballs_ at him, after all. Nobody would risk shooting a snowball in the direction of Mr. Wammy himself. The man in question did not react, but merely continued to walk. Together, they passed through the tall, foreboding wrought-iron gates that surrounded the property of Wammy's House.

Almost immediately, a fast snowball appeared out of nowhere and hit Near dead on in the face, the force making him fall into the snow. Laughter burst out all around him as he calmly wiped the wet snow from his face with cold fingers and stood back up.

"Nice shot, Mello!" a young boy's voice, not much older than his, called out. A boy with short red hair and strange orange tinted sunglasses, near the front of the group of children laughing at Near, high-fived a girl with blond hair reaching down to just above her shoulders, a cruel grin on her face.

"Now, settle down children." Mr. Wammy called, silence falling immediately over the crowd, "We have a new student that will be beginning tomorrow at Wammy's and I expect you to behave nicely with each other, meaning _no _throwing snowballs at his face." A few giggles sounded through the children again as Mr. Wammy relaxed, smiling. He then turned to Near, "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

A sudden thought crossed before him as he was about to answer.

"_Experiment."_ The voice from earlier called out again. The voice had it right. What if he were to create an experiment where he didn't speak to the other children at all? It would be interesting to see how the adults here dealt with it as well…

Near silently shook his head at Mr. Wammy, who turned to the blond-haired girl.

"Mello, since you seem do adamant as to play with Near here, wouldn't you like to give him a tour of the House as well?" he asked innocently, though Near knew it was an order. The girl cussed ferociously under her breath in what sounded like German.

"Do I have to?" She whined. Near was slightly surprised when he realized the voice was much too deep for a female's, despite it being before puberty and that it must be a male. A simple mistake, surely. Mello must be used to being mistaken as a female by now. Mello scowled again when Mr. Wammy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, I'll do it!" he spat out, grabbing the red-heads arm and pulling him as he walked towards Near, "Matt, c'mon! We're showing this sheep around. The faster we finish, the better." Near blinked in shock when Mello took hold of his arm roughly and began to drag him as well.

…

Several hours later, Near was settled into his room with a girl, nearing her sixth birthday, whom he shared the living space with. The girl's name was Linda, and she appeared to be of the very friendly, yet very naïve, type. She's also a very talented artist, and so her side of the room was colorful and filled with arts and crafts of all kinds. Near's side, however, was still blank and white, as he'd always preferred. Linda repeatedly asked him if he wanted her to 'liven' it up a bit' with some of her paintings, but Near sat quietly until she eventually subsided with all of her questions and went to bed.

Glancing at the clock, he decided it was late enough that all the children would be asleep and he would be free to do as he pleased around the House without being interrupted. As silent as a mouse, Near creeped out the door and down to where he remembered the library to be. As he walked among the bookshelves, he found what he had been looking for. The small computer situated next to a large window that allowed moonlight to filter through.

He climbed onto the chair and booted up the computer, only to find it locked because of the time. Near frowned disapprovingly as he broke through the computer's security as if it were child's play. His lips twitched upwards at the thought.

Child's play.

He'd made a joke.

His small fingers flew across the keyboard as he hacked into Wammy's House extensive fund. He searched online for what he might need in the near future and bought it using the money he'd recently acquired. He was about to shut down the computer right before an extra thought came to mind and stopped him.

"_Go ahead."_ The voice said. Near could hear the smile behind the words. After making the few final purchases, Near shut down the computer and, as silently as he came, crept quietly back to his room. He fell asleep quickly that night, but that did not mean he would sleep soundly.

His world erupted into bright light and screams.

* * *

**(A/N): **_Yeah, totally not my fault I updated this like twice in three days. Come on, it's the muse, I tell you! I should be writing out what I'm going to say tomorrow morning, because they're recording my Presidential Candidate Speech. Derp. No chance in hell I'm going to win this, though. Seven other people also want to join in and three of the seven are insanely popular and will get the support of their 'friends'. Oh joy. At least the teachers can't say I didn't try. The teachers, other than Mrs. B (damn you, Mrs. B!), all love me and enjoy my wonderful presence in their classes. Alright... they don't like me THAT much, but they still like me better than most of the others students and like to talk to me about special academic opportunities, as they call it. I don't mind because it's nice to be on most of the teacher's good sides, not to mention they don't bug and call on me when I don't raise my hand like most other students. I'm actually allowed to listen to music in most of their classes, though I'm only allowed with one earbud in. Plus it has to be like, super quiet. But still, hearing music in the background actually **helps **me focus on what the teacher is saying, and since the teachers all love me, they let it slide. I get real pissed off at the others kids in my classes when they tell me to take it out though. It gets really annoying when they whine all the time. I mean seriously. I listen to music in class and still get A's while they're getting C's and D's. Sure, some kids just don't learn as easily as I do, but it doesn't mean they can tell me what I can and cannot do. Especially when they should be minding their own _**damn business**_ and listen to the teacher instead of bugging me._

_Crap. I ranted._

_Oh well. Review anyone? Favorites? Likes? Dislikes? Constructive Criticism? Come on, I can go on forever! Also, I have been playing around with adding a few OC's in the story, though not my own. It'll be a few chapters before I decide to insert any of them in yet, since I want you guys (whomever is reading this) to have time to register stuff in, but if I don't get any then I'll just keep them out. _

_Real name, alias, age, appearance, personality traits, **1 **Special Skill (Music, art, intelligence, etc.), date of birth, quirks (they CANNOT be perfect, so give a ton!), and some sort of background history. I beg you not to make them like any of the characters in Death Note because that'd just be boring. I am not planning on making this a romance, and so there will be no pairings between the OC's and the characters along with in-line character pairings._

_Also, be warned. There will be a chance that I will kill off your OC, so try not to get too attached. Probably wont happen, but still. _

_Until next time!_

_(Damn, that was long...)_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Whispering Voices **

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_After making the few final purchases, Near shut down the computer and, as silently as he came, crept quietly back to his room. He fell asleep quickly that night, but that did not mean he would sleep soundly._

_His world erupted into bright light and screams._

**...**

_Dreams are only thoughts you didn't have time to think about during the day. _

_~Author Unknown_

…

Near jerked awake, accidentally rolling off the bed and landing on the plain, hardwood floor with a loud_ thud._ He lay there in shock for a few moments, trying to recollect what he'd dreamed that would make him roll out of bed. Had it been a nightmare? He could never remember any of the nightmares he'd had as a young child. Was it of his mother? All he could remember was a bright light and a scream…

"Near?" Linda called, voice slurring sleepily, "What're you doing?" The bedside lamp beside Linda's bed turned on and Near winced as the bright light illuminated his face. Linda got out of bed with a quick gasp and crouched in front of Near, her expression worried.

"Near!" she whispered, frightened, "Did you have a nightmare? Was it bad? Please Near, tell me what's wrong!" she raised a tentative hand and wiped the area under his eyes with her thumb, "Please don't cry!"

_Crying…?_ Near thought, confused for a moment. Raising a hand to his face, he confirmed it. It came back wet and when he tasted it, salty. Near, never in his entire existence, had ever cried as he _slept,_ which was slightly worrying.

Perhaps his mother's dea- departure had had a bigger impact on his psyche than he'd originally thought. Is it possible that he'd become a case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be surprised, but this was himself. Why let such a small setback control his life? Near knew better than this.

Linda suddenly grabbed Near's arm. Near's struggles were in vain as the older girl had much more strength than he and, with a determined fire burning in her eyes, she couldn't be stopped.

"I'll take you to Roger!" she told him as she walked him across the lawn and towards a small, separate building. Near hissed as his bare feet plowed through the soft snow, though it seemed Linda had a great tolerance for the cold or she simply did not notice.

"Roger!" she yelled as she rapped urgently on the door, "We need you!" An old man whom Near assumed to be Roger opened the door, glasses askewer on his nose, face scrunched in worry.

"What's the matter, Linda? Is there a fire? A burglar? Did one of the children have a heart attack?" he asked frantically.

"Even _worse!_" Linda cried out, her face passionate as tears threatened to fall from her eyes, "Near had a bad dream!" Roger froze before sighing in a combination of relief and exasperation and patted her on the head gently.

"Linda, you should not come to me for something as little as a bad dream, we've gone over this before." He scolded her lightly, "You understand that I cannot be there for every little thing gone wrong. If I could, I would do it all in a heartbeat." Near raised his eyebrow at the lie, but Linda seemed to deflate and bit her bottom lip worryingly.

"It's just… Near was crying and I was afraid..." she mumbled. Near silently cursed her as Roger raised his own eyebrow before he realized something.

"Good God, children, get out of the snow! You're bound to get sick if you stand in it any longer…" he exclaimed, hurrying them inside. He turned on a light and headed to the kitchen as Linda led Near to seat on an extravagant, yet comfortable, couch. The entire room looked like it had been used by royalty. Near and Linda sat in silence for a few short minutes before Linda chirped happily.

"You sit weird! Do you have to sit like that, or do you choose to?" Linda asked, practically bouncing in her seat with the curiosity. Near did not answer and instead chose to ignore her useless chattering until her voice became an unintelligible buzz in the background. Strangely enough, a different voice began to sound through the buzzing noise.

"_Shhh," _the voice whispered, _"Do not speak. Do not make a sound. Do not move an inch. Do not react. Do not-" _the voice cut off as a large hand shook his shoulder. He turned his gaze to the man's eyes and calmly held it.

"Near, are you feeling well?" Roger asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with an index finger. Near almost responded, but instead reached for the mug of hot chocolate in one of Roger's hands. Roger put the hot chocolate out of reach and gave Near a disapproving look.

"Near, tell me if you feel sick and you shall get the hot chocolate." Roger said, frowning slightly. Near frowned back and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Hot chocolate would not persuade a child like Near. Near climbed off the couch and calmly walked across the room, opening the front door.

"Hey, Near, wait up!" Linda called after him as he walked into the snowy night. He could hear her stumble and trip several times in the snow as she hurried towards him, but Near never stopped to wait for her. Once he was inside, he decided to head to the kitchen. It was nearing the time to wake up for classes today and Near was sure he would not be able to sleep more. As he shuffled through the hallways towards the kitchen, Near spotted light coming from the crack in the door. Someone was already awake, it seemed. Near opened the door to find a blonde precariously balancing on the back of a chair to reach the top of a cupboard, a bar of chocolate caught in his teeth. Near moved close enough to hear Mello muttering in German once again.

"_Almost there… careful… don't break it… come on…"_

Mello suddenly gasped, dropping the chocolate bar that was in his mouth, and fell backwards towards the hard linoleum floor. Fortunately enough for him, a soft pillow caught him. Near, despite himself, emitted a soft yelp as Mello came crashing down on top of him. Mello sat in shock for a few moments before jumping off of Near, turning with an apology in his mouth, before abruptly stopping.

"What the hell're _you_ doing here?" he growled at Near, who was still recovering his breath off the floor. Mello grabbed the front collar of Near's white pajama shirt and pulled him up so they were eye to eye, "Listen up, _sheep_, don't go following me around. I'm number one around here, so what I say, goes. Got it?" Near stared directly into Mello's eyes, trying to unnerve him. Unfortunately, it worked.

"Hey, _stupid sheep,_ don't look at me like that!" Mello growled, roughly throwing Near to the ground. Linda jumped out from nowhere and grabbed hold of Mello's arm.

"_Mello!"_ she cried, tears running down her face, "Don't hurt him! He's only a little boy! He hasn't done anything to you!" Mello stopped, disbelief written on his face.

"How do _you_ know the sheep, Linda?" he asked suspiciously.

"_Near _is my roommate, Mello." She answered, wiping her eyes with her flowered pajama sleeve. The blonde's mouth hung open.

"He's your _roommate?"_ he cried dubiously, "But how? Boys and girls aren't allowed to be roommates!"

"Don't know, don't care." Linda said, raising her chin, closing her eyes, and crossing her arms in a rare moment of defiance. Mello glared daggers at Near for a few moments before grabbing the box of chocolates he'd managed to knock down as he fell and silently retreating –Near thought it was more like childishly stomping- out of the kitchen. Linda smiled apologetically at Near.

"Sorry about Mello. He's not usually like this. I don't know why he acted out like that…" Linda said, trailing off awkwardly as Near left the kitchen without another word, heading towards the library in hopes of some peace and quiet.

Though Near didn't read often (he'd never really needed too), he'd always enjoyed the noise-less atmosphere that the room full of books gave off. Oftentimes it dared even the noisiest children to do their worst, but they were too afraid of their voice carrying too far. Though children enjoyed being loud, the library had always been the one sacred room of silence.

A perfect room for thinking, Near thought. He settled down in a hidden arm chair he'd found the previous day exploring the library and gazed all around the little crook it sat in.

All around him were shelves of books with mounds of dust on their spines. Though Wammy's House was not as large as a castle, the library made it seem that way. It was the largest room in the entire building, no doubt. The ceiling was arched and high and large windows allowed natural light to enter, making it easier for children to read in the daytime. The little corner in the room Near was located in had an entrance that was nearly impossible to find… _nearly_ being the key word.

The entrance was very clever, hidden only where one might accidentally stumble upon it, and since it was in one of the oldest and least used parts of the library, it was almost ingenious. If one accidentally pushed in several large books (medical dictionaries, by the looks of it) they would find the shelf beneath it with a small divot in the wood. By taking the books of that small section of shelf and pulling it open, they would see the hidden area encircled by the bookcases and completely unnoticeable from the outside. Here, Near could sit without being disturbed, and that is what he did.

The voice did not return, irritatingly enough. Near wanted to confront it, wanting to know what it was, but it appeared that it didn't want to make itself known without the presence of others. If Near had been one to curse out loud, he would have done so. Near instead decided to spend his time thinking of ways to improve his new hide-out.

His special… delivery should not be coming for a few more hours, and so that'd have to wait for later. He could, perhaps, find a way to connect a computer over here so he wouldn't have to be bothered none stop, but then he would need some sort of assistance. Near was nowhere near strong enough to carry those large PC's. He quickly dismissed the idea and instead climbed out of his hidden corner and back out into the library. He glanced out the window when he heard a car door slam and smiled genuinely.

The package has arrived at long last, though it had come earlier than expected. That was no problem, of course.

Near made his way outside, successfully avoiding any curious early-risers, and approached Roger and the delivery man arguing with each other.

"-got the wrong address!"

"Nope. Checked. You're the only orphanage named Wammy's House in this area, dude." The delivery man, a teenager, drawled.

"We did not order…" Roger waved towards the truck, "that!"

"That's because you ordered…" the teenager walked over to the truck and opened up the back, "this! There's a difference."

Inside was a _huge_ pile of toys. Near walked up to the man, trudging through the snow barefoot without a moment's hesitation. The teenager blinked down in confusion at the small boy expectantly reaching for the clipboard in his hands. The teenager suddenly laughed.

"Don't tell me _you_ ordered these toys!" he exclaimed, slapping his knee and using a hand to wipe a tear that had been forming in an eye. Near snatched the clipboard out of the teen's hand and wrote his name on it before returning it. The teen looked dumbfounded as he looked stupidly down at the paper.

"Near? What kinda name is Near?" he asked, eyebrows scrunching ridiculously as he tried hopelessly to figure it out.

"Near!" Roger exclaimed, recovering from his momentary shock, "You're not allowed to order anything, let alone this many _toys!_ Besides, how in the world did you get the money to get this?"

Near just stared expressionless at Roger, who cursed under his breath (_"I'm getting too old to babysit geniuses!"_)and pulled out a cell phone. Near picked out a toy robot from the huge mountain and made his way inside, ignoring the astounded looks of his new classmates as well as a certain angry blond. Near was sure that Roger would send the toys in later after angrily venting out his anger to whomever he was speaking to.

Near made his way to the classroom, the one he'd been shown to day before by Mello, and settled into an empty chair in the back-corner of the room, toy robot still in hand, where he thoroughly examined it. Why hadn't he tried playing with toys beforehand? The blinking lights and small, automated voices were actually quite enjoyable. The other toys he'd ordered would also have to be examined, but he could deal with that at a later time. The toy robot, at the moment, was most probably his favorite. He fiddled with the circuitry some and… fine-tuned some of its features.

The class was nearly filled up with Mello came walking –strutting, though Near- in and slammed a fist on Near's desk, silencing the loud children.

"Listen, you mute sheep, don't make a stunt like that again, got it?" he hissed at Near. There was a rising tension in the air as Mello glared daggers at Near while he stared blankly back.

"What, you little mute, can't you talk?" Mello demanded.

"_Come on… you know you want to." _The voice returned, whispering encouragements to Near's first thought.

Near lifted the robot so it was face to face with Mello, who backed up a little at the closeness, and raised the arm so it aimed at Mello's head. Mello narrowed his eyes apprehensively. Pressing a button near the base of the arm, Near unleashed the upgraded laser 'gun' on the robot directly into Mello's eye.

Mello howled as the high-level laser bored into his eye before he clamped it shut. The children around them began to laugh loudly at the display of Mello furiously rubbing the tears out of his eyes and cursing Near to the ends of the earth.

"You little _brat!_ I'll teach you your place!" Mello yelled angrily, grabbing Near's robot. In one swift movement, he threw the robot to the ground and stomped on it with his other food, successfully breaking it into pieces. The laughter quickly quieted as they waited to see how Near would respond.

"_You know what to do…" _the voice whispered encouragingly.

"What'dya say about that, _sheep?_" Mello taunted, a smug smirk on his face. Near pointed expressionlessly towards the person standing in the doorway. Some of the children squealed at the sight, happy to see Mr. Wammy. The others stared in horror at Mello getting caught. Quillish frowned disapprovingly at Mello, who had frozen when he'd turned.

"Mello, I told you to take care of Near here, not threaten him." The old man reprimanded. Mello scowled and let go of Near, who calmly settled back into his chair.

"Near, are you alright?" Mr. Wammy asked. Near nodded and continued to fiddle with the toy robot. Mr. Wammy nodded in return and walked towards the teacher who'd walked in.

"Please, begin the lesson." He instructed, walking out of the room. The teacher did as he said and began lecturing the students.

Child's play, once again. He'd learnt all this long ago. Glancing around the room, he found Mello fuming on the opposite side of the room, as far away from Near as possible, with Matt sitting right behind him, playing on his gameboy. Mello appeared to be furiously writing notes on a piece of paper, making several holes as he placed too much pressure. Near doubted that he really needed the notes, but must be deluding himself into 'working hard'.

"-now, get together in groups of three and solve the riddle on the board." The teacher's voice droned on. Everyone scrambled to get into groups of three until it was just Mello, Matt, and Near left alone. Mello and Matt took seats next to Near, though Mello leaned away as far as possible from him, and watched Near carefully. Matt laid back in his chair, placing his feet on a desk, and continued to play on his gameboy. Obviously, Near was going to do this one on his own.

_If you break me_

_I do not stop working,_

_If you touch me_

_I may be snared,_

_If you lose me_

_Nothing will matter._

_What am I?_

Near sighed at the simple riddle and wrote the answer on a sheet of paper. Mello had taken his eyes off of Near and onto the board, eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out the answer. He glanced at Near for a moment and made a comical double take. Near almost smiled when he saw his reaction. Almost. Mello narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowled in frustration as he returned his gaze to the riddle on the blackboard in front of them.

Five minutes later, the teacher called them to stop and walked up to Near, smiling down at him.

"Near, would you like to share what you wrote?" she asked, "I noticed your group was the only one that seemed to understand it." Near raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak. She sighed after nearly twenty seconds of silence and turned to Mello.

"How about you, Mels?" she asked, calling him by his ridiculous nickname, "Would you like to add something?" Mello stared at Near for a moment before realization hit him. He turned to the teacher.

"It's a heart, Miss Gerard." He answered smugly. She immediately brightened and hugged Mello.

"Goodness, you're all such a smart group of children!" she exclaimed happily, tears pricking at her eyes, "Do I even need to teach you?" She quickly regained her composure but continued to beam brightly at the students as she continued to speak to the class. Near drifted off again, ignoring the useless babble and instead re calibrating a smaller robot's lasers to a much higher level than the last. After what felt like ages, the bell at the top of the house rang, signaling the end of classes for the morning. Near continued to sit in his chair and instead turned his attention to the sound of the bell. It sounded… off.

_Bong… bong… bong… bong… bong…_

"Near?" Miss Gerard's voice cut into his thinking. She placed a hand on his shoulder and kneeled down to look him in the eyes.

"Listen, Near," she started, an actually serious tone appearing in her voice, "you've got to stop being stubborn and speak sooner or later. We can't properly teach you if you don't talk with anyone here." Near merely continued to stare at her, disinterested.

"She's right, you know." A familiar voice rang from the doorway, "We both know you're not actually traumatized by your mother's death –Near imperceptibly winced-, and so your silence is a lie."

"Mr. Wammy!" Miss Gerard gasped, standing up quickly, "I had no idea you were still here! I thought you'd left with L earlier…" L? L was not a name, it was a letter. Perhaps it was one of the aliases chosen by a student… but who in their right mind would choose a letter as a name?

He blinked as he realized the answer.

Someone who _wasn't_ in his right mind… of course. People over the ages had often thought geniuses or prodigies to be mad for their ideas or their intelligence, Galileo being a prime example, so it was very possible that this was the actual number one. If this L character was actually number one here, it wouldn't be surprising that he would have Mr. Wammy watching over him. But if he was actually number one, then why have Mello as number one? Wouldn't he be number two instead? No, if L was number one, meaning he was the best, then Mello as number one meant he was next in line for the throne of the real number one. He was the first successor.

What kind of institution was Mr. Wammy running here?

Why in the world would he need to make successors for a child genius?

"Near, by the way, next time you order a large truck full of toys, be sure to tell us." Wammy said, driving Near from his thoughts, "We'd rather not have you hacking into our bank account, if you don't mind."

We…

Is it possible that the child genius is running everything behind the scenes, using Wammy as a cover? This was very intriguing. It was also possibly the most fun he'd had in ages. Isn't that why he came here in the first place, to be challenged? A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Cleverly hidden partially behind a drawing –Made by Linda, Near suspected- of a strawberry shortcake sat a camera implanted on the wall.

Someone was watching the students as they learned.

Someone was watching him at this very moment.

His lips twitched upwards as he watched the camera. He switched the small robot to the enhanced laser and aimed carefully.

A moment later, the camera's red light blinked out.

Very well, L.

_Challenge accepted._

* * *

__**(A/N):** _Fuck YEAH! Apparently waiting a week before finishing the chapter made me see common sense and change some of it, making it much more interesting. Also, SO sorry about my other story. It's fairly difficult at the moment to continue because of school. You know, that irritating thing most children have to attend for quite a while before leaving it? Yeah, that's the thing. _

_Reviews, favorites, constructive criticism, anything? For some strange reason I'm comparing the lack of response to me saying a joke, laughing, and then realizing everyone was staring at me with blank looks on their faces. That's a really awkward feeling, and if you've ever felt it before, you know what I mean._


	4. Chapter 4

**The Whispering Voices **

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_His lips twitched upwards as he watched the camera. He switched the robot to the enhanced laser and aimed carefully._

_A moment later, the camera's red light blinked out._

_Very well, L._

_Challenge accepted._

**…**

_There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea._

_~Bernard-Paul Heroux_

**…**

The sixteen-year-old boy rewound the last few seconds of the transmission. Again. Again. Again. He watched the wide, emotionless eyes that looked so much like his own crinkle ever so slightly in amusement. He watched as his thin, pink lips twitched upwards in the first smile he'd seen on the boy's face. It was awkward, unused, as if he wasn't used to the feeling. Just like his own. He glanced around to find the mirror on the wall. His hunched figure was difficult to see, but he'd spent nearly all his days in a dark room, and so it wasn't difficult to see his large, unblinking eyes.

He tried smiling once more, forcing the ends of his lips up, before giving up, instead opting to watch himself. The smile on his lips didn't appear to be genuine. They never did. Just because it looked like he was smiling didn't mean he actually was. In order to smile, it appeared he'd have to really feel it. Anyone can fake a smile. Only real ones show in the eyes. They'd have to be happy.

The teenager scoffed after a moment. Hormones were finally getting to him, making him think of things as trivial as smiles. How ridiculous. Instead, he turned his attention back to the new boy on his computer screen and typed quickly, bringing up his personal file which was protected by his own security measures, just to make sure some of the more technologically inclined children weren't able to hack in.

Nate River (Near)

Age: 4

Birth date: August 24th, 1991

IQ: suspected above 180

Former Guardians: Elsa River and James River

Current Guardian: Mr. Wammy of Wammy's House

Showed signs of awareness at almost six months of age. Was attached to his mother, Elsa, after the death of her husband, James. James was assassinated by the Russian Mafia after making secret dealing with them. Elsa also suspected of being assassinated as a form of revenge. 72% chance that Nate was also a target. Albino. Refuses to speak upon being brought to Wammy's House. High chances of trauma after watching his mother die in front of him.

Relations: Linda – roommate and possible friend. Mello – Rival(?). Matt – Acquaintance. Roger – Toy. Wammy – Respected. L – Apparent rival.

The teenager took a bite of his cake, settling down to think. He did not think the boy would be able to beat him… but he was more intelligent, if not more coolheaded, than Mello. The older boy had no doubt the other would be a much more formidable opponent. A soft knock drew his attention as the door opened, a silhouette appearing on the wall above the computer screen.

"L?" a familiar voice called.

"Yes, Watari?" L asked, unwrapping a piece of hard caramel.

"Would you still like to continue the video conference as planned?" Watari asked.

"Yes… and please inform Roger that I'll be extending my stay here until further notice." L said, popping the caramel in his mouth.

"Of course, anything else?" Watari asked.

"Please install a bug and a camera, inside and outside of Near's room respectively." L ordered.

"I will do my best." Watari replied before turning and quietly shutting the door behind him. L blinked for a moment. He'd heard some sort of emotion… was it smugness? Perhaps he'd heard a smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Watari." L mumbled under his breath. Suddenly, he spat the cameral out of his mouth, hitting and making a large crack on the computer screen before quickly grabbing his cup of tea and chugging it down, trying to get the terrible taste out of his mouth.

"Sugar free…" the moody teenager spat angrily, scowling. No _wonder_ Watari had sounded different. Now he'd have to pull out another computer screen… and dispose of the large tub of sugar-free caramels next to his armchair.

He groaned and shuffled towards the kitchen to check on his other sweets.

* * *

**(A/N):** _I'm sorry, I just had to do it! I have zilch inspiration for my other story because I actually already wrote half of it, only to have it COMPLETELY DISAPPEAR. Like fucking POOF. Also, some hormone filled L for your wonderful enjoyment. 'Till next time, my wonderful readers! Also, it's my birthday soon, so hooray! _


End file.
